


We May Yet be Greater Than the Sum of Our Parts

by orphan_account



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Bond/Moneypenny brotp 5ever i mean what, Drabble Collection, M/M, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, even though most of these will probably end up being 1000+ words oops, yeah this started as an anon request and now look whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 15:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'If not for the pieces of Zastava Black Arrow littering the dining table and the fact that Q’s latest project recently hacked the Bank of England, this could be an ordinary afternoon in an ordinary apartment anywhere in London.'<br/>Or, in which Bond and Q don't fit together all that well, but they're bloody well going to try.<br/>(Or alternately, a series of drabbles, oneshots, and prompt fills, but not necessarily in that order.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	We May Yet be Greater Than the Sum of Our Parts

**Author's Note:**

> This one was a prompt on [my tumblr](http://the-memorable-silent.tumblr.com/post/38701986778), written before Christmas oop  
>  ** _(Anonymous Asked: 00Q prompt: Bond gets bored in between missions and attempts to decorate Q branch. Bonus love if mistletoe is involved.)_**

Contrary to what one might assume, James Bond is actually rather fond of the holiday season, in an ‘aren’t-ordinary-people-adorable’ sort of way. It’s not something that he’s really ever thought of as applying to him; the so-called Christmas Spirit doesn’t stop England’s enemies and so there’s no reason for it to stop the Secret Intelligence Service either. The only real difference in MI6 headquarters around Christmas has been, up until this point, that M’s taste in interior design had become marginally worse.

M the Second doesn’t have nearly the deplorable taste that M the First had, though; and so, sequestered away underground as Headquarters currently is, the turning of the world goes largely unnoticed amongst the various sections.

Until about a week before Christmas Eve, that is, when Bond ducks into the Q-branch offices and is promptly assaulted by a veritable wave of holiday cheer.  

He blinks, nonplussed: how the formerly tinsel-free wing has become decidedly  _not_ -tinsel-free in the less than twenty-four hours since his last visit is more than a little baffling.  

Moneypenny waltzes out of a crowd of chattering technicians, bearing an armload of silk holly vines, and flashes Bond a wide grin.  

“Like the new digs?” 

“It’s very—” he searches for a more appropriate word than ‘overwhelming’. After a slightly-too-long pause, he settles for, “festive.” 

Moneypenny laughs. “You’re in perfect time. Looks like someone is in need of a knight in shining armor right about now,” she says, gesturing with a toss of her corkscrew curls. 

Bond follows her gaze and doesn’t bother to hide his grin: hunched at his desk in the center of the room, staring around at his milling teammates with a scowl that could quite probably do much of Bond’s job for him, is the Quartermaster. 

He’s stabbing angrily at his souped-up Asus and muttering under his breath, and it takes him several moments to notice that Bond is now leaning over his shoulder wearing a very poorly-concealed smirk. 

Q starts and looks up at Bond with an equal mix of annoyance and desperation. Hunched in his pointedly un-festive grey jumper, he looks like nothing so much as a particularly disgruntled cat. 

It’s  _adorable_. 

“Help,” he says.

“With pleasure,” Bond says, still smirking, and straightens up, clapping Q on the shoulder. He crooks a finger at Moneypenny, who comes dancing back across the room and bumps her shoulder into his with a conspiratorial wink. Bond plucks her armload of decorating materials from her and turns back to Q. 

“What would you like me to do with these?” he asks, all innocence.

Q’s scowl is now capable of murdering half of London. He stands up and yanks the bundle of plant life from Bond, sending a shower of rather wilted white berries pattering to the floor. “Give me that!” 

Then he realizes that what he’s holding isn’t holly. “You’ve  _got_  to be joking,” he says, flinging the mistletoe onto his desk as if it’s deadly poison— which, to be fair, it  _is_ , but that’s not the point.

“Usually,” Bond admits, eyes crinkling in amusement.

Q rolls his eyes skyward and slumps his shoulders, managing to imbue the gesture with all the aggravation in the world. “Well ha-bloody-ha, but if you don’t mind I’ve got a lot of work to do and I’m having enough trouble with it as it is.”

Bond leans in over his shoulder. “Hasn’t anyone ever warned you how much trouble I am?”

“More than you’re worth,” Q starts to grumble, but is cut off quite effectively by Bond spinning him around and kissing him, hard. A large percentage of the chatter in the room cuts off sharply, and someone whistles. Q  _mmp_ s in surprise and bites at Bond indignantly, which has exactly the opposite of the intended effect, so of course it’s  _only_  because there’s nothing else left for him to do that he stretches up into the kiss, twining his arms around Bond’s neck.

Rather distantly, Q can hear someone (he thinks it’s Moneypenny) say, “you owe me five quid,” to which someone else (Magda, it sounds like) responds, “well, technically they’re not  _under_  the mistletoe.” 

Q unbunches a hand from the back of Bond’s collar long enough to flip off the offending half of the room.

“You’ve been working too hard,” Bond says against the corner of Q’s mouth, and Q is suddenly really glad that the other man is more or less holding him up, because his higher brain functions seem to have abruptly gone on strike.

“I  _have_  been meaning to take some time off,” he manages, once he’s capable of forming a coherent sentence.

He hadn’t been getting anything productive done today anyways.

**Author's Note:**

> ahaha it’s not quiiiite what you asked for ‘cos I can’t quite picture Bond as the ~YAY CHRISTMAS SPIRIT~ type but he’d certainly help out if he thought it would annoy A Certain Someone DOUBLE OH SEVEN MORE LIKE DOUBLE OH SASS AMIRITE :B
> 
> I’M SO SORRY FOR INFLICTING THIS UPON YOU ALL LIES FACEDOWN ON FLOOR 
> 
> believe it or not, that Sherlock reference was eNTiRELY UNINTENTIONAL
> 
> also wow this was WAaaAAAaAAAAYy longer than I meant for it to be wHOOPS
> 
> comments pls?


End file.
